It Poured Crimson
by Pesky Ixy Pesternomi
Summary: The story of Helena Ravenclaw's flight from Hogwarts, and of the Baron's persuit.
1. Flight

**Drabble number one of five for HedwigBlack's Romantic Drabbles competition.**

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><p>Curse him to the deepest regions of hell. That insufferable man will be the death of me. My escape from my mother's tower would have been completely successful if not for the fact that the Baron seems incapable of leaving me be. His obsession has become quite unhealthy, not to mention a nuissance.<p>

Thankfully, his romantic feelings for me seem enough to keep him quiet about my theft. I can't imagine the rage it would put Mother in to learn that I've stolen her diadem. It is most precious to her, but why does she need it? So she can continue to have all the glory of wisdom to herself? I think not. I am just as beautiful and capable as she, and I have just as much right to the knowledge that the diadem provides. Why must she be the only famous witch from the Ravenclaw line? Why must she continue to keep me in the shadows, when it is my birthright to be as admired as she? She doesn't even use the diadem anymore. As long as that bloody Baron keeps his obsessive tongue tied, she'll never know of my deception.

I've left for Albania, I convinced one of the stable lads to make ready one of the older carriages for me, I hope he didn't catch a fright when he went to retrieve a thestral from the forrest, he was such a nice young lad, even if he did seem put out when I roused him from bed at such a late hour.

I know the Baron must have been watching from the window of his chambers when I left, he seemed so angry with me, but he never can keep his nose in his own business. I do believe the only reason he stayed on as Lord Slytherin's apprentice after his graduation was so that he could remain within gazing distance of me. I do hope he filled his need of me in those moments as he watched my retreating figure, for he shall never see my form again. I have no intention of returning to his controlling behavior or Mother's overbearing demeanour ever again.

Hogwarts is but a memory to me now.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R<strong>


	2. Longing

**Drabble number two! This time in the Baron's POV.**

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><p>She didn't heed my advice. I told her to undo the misdeeds she had done and that all would be well, I wouldn't mention her theft to her mother, and we could go back to the way things should be. She doesn't seem to understand her place. Her mother has promised her to me, and no matter how she fights it, she is <em>mine. <em>Helena has always been such a headstrong young woman, even when she first began classes at Hogwarts. It's one of the things I've always admired about her.

When she first found I was to be taking over the position of Potions Master after Lord Slytherin's flight from the school, she was as brass as to tell me she would never refer to me as Master, regardless of my title over her and that if I didn't like it, I was free to remove her from my pupil's list. She was merely fourteen at the time, and she gave me such a lashing with that tongue of hers that my cheeks burned red for days.

I won't keep quiet about her disobediance this time however. She means to leave and never return? How dare she. Does she not understand that it is not just her mother she runs from? But from myself as well? She is to be my wife, and she must learn to obey me. It wouldn't be suitable for a Baroness to disobey and overrule her husband at every turn, and I shall see to it that she learns her place in the world. She is a beauty, and I will be the envy of all the men in the room whenever she is upon my arm. But first I must put her there.

Yes, there is nothing else for it. I must let Rowena know what has become of her precious diadem. Surely she will send for Helena, and once she is brought back and made to face her punishment, she won't be so quick to defy those who know what is best for her, myself included. I imagine she will be so tamed that the wedding will finally be able to take place. She will be so beautiful in the colors of my family.

I may even take pity on her and fail to punish her for ignoring my advice.

"Helena," I had told her, "you know your Mother will be ashamed and heartbroken if she awakes to find her two most precious items missing."

She scoffed at my words, retorting smartly that the most precious thing to Rowena was as always, her own person. Helena is vastly more intelligent than many of the ladies of her age, but she is so foolish and blind when it comes to her own relationships. Does she not understand the love that her mother has for her? Or the love that I have for her even? She longs so desperately for the reverence that is given to her mother, simply for her intelligence. They are both remarkable, intelligent women, but there is more to them than that. Helena pushes herself so tirelessly, and it will all be for naught. Her bitterness will destroy her if she doesn't learn to overcome it.

I can only hope that in time she sees my betrayal of her trust as what it really is, a desperate plea for her to recognise what is and is not true. I long to be the one that teaches her to recognise who does and does not care for her genuinely. I long to be the one her heart rests with.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R<strong>


	3. Preparations

**Drabble number 3. Helena's POV.**

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><p>I've heard warning from one of my informants in the nearby village that a man of nobility has been searching all of Albania for a woman in hiding who bears my appearance. The feeling of dread in my chest lets me know what I fear is true. It is the Baron, come for me.<p>

I happened upon a small cottage in the woods that had been abandoned, and upon finding the gentleman whose land it is upon, asked his blessing to make it my own. He didn't seem to understand a single word that I uttered, however his wife was quite taken with the Parisian satchel I carried with me. It was a rather priceless item and we managed to communicate well enough to make the exchange. They've not bothered me, and I have no intention of bothering them, though perhaps I should study the Albanian language more thoroughly.

It is in this cottage that I now hide, with the desperate hope that the Baron does not find me. I cannot help but feel as if this wish is hopeless however, and so I plan to hide the diadem in the trunk of a hollowed tree that I stumbled upon whilst reading in the wood the other day. I've also decided to make this cottage undetectable, only a person whom posesses a significantly strong magical core will be able to see it, and even then they will most likely not realize the cottage is even hidden in the first place. It's such a dilapidated little place that I cannot fathom why anyone who may come across it would possibly disturb it's peace. Upon the bookshelf I've hidden a small map that will help me to remember exactly where the hollowed tree is, six paces from the brook.

Along with the map, I've written a note. In the event that I do not return to this place, my only hope is that somebody may find the diadem and use it to better themselves. It's powers should not remain hidden from all but my mother, who uses it selfishly, so that she may keep the title of the most intelligent witch of the age. I fear I am the only one who knows the truth of her intelligence. Smart as my mother may be, much of her intelligence is false.

I shall return as soon as it is safe to do so and finish the work I've started here, but for now I will put these plans into action and then I too shall disappear from this place, before the Baron finds me. I know his anger will be mighty, and I hope to evade it for the rest of eternity, so if running is what I must do, I will run.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R<strong>


	4. Cauldron Fire

**Drabble number four of five! In the Baron's POV.**

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><p>I should have known that Rowena would bequeath the task of fetching Helena to me. I'd been searching for weeks for the stubborn girl, and the only hint I had found as to her destination was that she had been heading towards Albania. The stable lad who prepared her carriage knew nothing other than that.<p>

At last though, I'd found another hint as to her whereabouts. Why she would have come to this small town was a mystery to me, but the shopkeeper I spoke with insisted that the girl in the painting had been seen in town just days before, trading goods for firewood. He told me in his broken English that he had laughed at her asking why she didn't chop her own wood. She had seemed ruffled by his question. Why would a lady such as herself chop her own wood?

I left the shopkeeper to his amusement and as I exited the shop, a small child ran past me speaking nonsense to his sibling about seeing a witch. I thought in errant amusement that these Muggles wouldn't know a true witch if she were to brew them an Occulus potion and brighten their eyesight.

I fumbled in my steps.

Perhaps the child wasn't misguided after all. I squinted into the distance in the direction from which he came, and was met with the sight of a quickly thickening forrest. Barely a whisp of smoke rose from the trees, but it was enough that anyone trained in the fine art of potion making such as myself would be able to recognize the signs of a cauldron fire.

Bless the little Muggle child.

I quickened my pace towards the wood, taking with me naught but my sword and wand. My only thought was the relief and joy I would feel once Helena was in my arms as she should be.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R<strong>


	5. Stain

**The fifth and final installment of It Poured Crimson! I hope that you all enjoyed this short little collection of drabbles and that it inspires you to write more yourselves. Please make sure to review each chapter and let me know what you liked and disliked!**

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><p>I found her as she was tightening the saddle bags. She must have bewitched one of the Muggles into giving her his horse, whether by magic or womanly means, I know not. It was smart of her, to intend upon traveling without magic, but muggle means are slower, and I found her before she could move on.<p>

I wish that I hadn't.

Upon catching the sight of my person approaching, the devil in her sent a strong Stinging Hex my way. It was enough to madden me. I quickly disarmed her and sought to restrain her, but my woman of fire put up an unexpected fight. She slapped and kicked at me and when her nails drew blood from my face, my sight went red. Without any knowledge of how it had happened, I found myself in a position I had often dreamt of. Helena in my arms, gasping my name.

What I had never thought possible was that she would be doing so in pain, as her blood spilled from her body unto mine, and with it her life. It poured crimson down the front of her dress, staining my hands and the blades of grass upon which she fell. I felt the warm liquid pass through my clothing and I could taste the coppery smell of it in the air. Her blood engulfed my senses in every way. I felt myself begin to shake with a maddening remorse. The last words that left her lips as my grief took over were the truest words to ever fall upon my ears.

_You will forever regret this. _

As the light that I had often watched dance in her eyes died, an unknown part of me went with it. I sobbed in a way befitting a school boy, and repeatedly I tried to resussitate her, but no amount of magic could bring her to me. The hope in my heart gone, I laid her body amongst the flowers and closed her eyes before placing our first and final kiss upon her cherry lips.

I closed my eyes for what I thought would be the final time, and then I too fell upon my blade.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R<strong>


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